


Unexpected, Ruth's POV. Part 2

by Shatterpath



Series: Unexpected [2]
Category: Bionic Woman (2007), CSI: NY, Leverage
Genre: Crossover, F/F, crack!fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-02-07
Updated: 2010-02-07
Packaged: 2017-10-08 20:09:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 14,949
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/79077
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shatterpath/pseuds/Shatterpath
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Here is my crack!fic prompt, from my pal, Geekgrrllurking.</p><p>Stella (CSI:NY) and Ruth (Bionic Woman) are accidentally handcuffed together and must find Parker (Leverage) who has the key. Parker meanwhile is hidden away with Lindsay (Women's Murder Club) for a naughty weekend away together. How do they end up getting out of their handcuffs?</p><p>I liked writing for Stella so much, that I retold the entire tale from Ruth's POV. It was a great writing challenge for me.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Unexpected, Ruth's POV. Part 2

"Listen, I don't know who the hell you are, but you better start explaining and fast."

It all happened so fast that I immediately scramble to catch up. The woman, a stranger and not at all who I thought she was, is understandably incensed. Earthy green eyes flash with temper in a truly lovely face, framed by a wild mane of caramel curls that had distracted me in the first place. Bringing my hands up in the universal sign of peace reminds us both of the bizarre situation that we're suddenly in.

Yes, that 'accidental' bump from a familiar figure slouched in a hoodie was exactly who I thought it was. God, I really am getting sloppy…

"I'm afraid this is a practical joke gone awry. From behind, you look remarkably like a coworker of ours," I start explaining, desperate to defuse this. "You fooled us both and I was standing right next to you. Though this is pretty sloppy of Parker, I have to admit."

"Wait, wait," she snaps in exasperation. "A practical joke? Are you serious?"

This is not going well. Better call up all those vaunted adaptation skills, Ruth, or this will spiral into ugliness that might result in jail time or some sort of physical altercation. "Parker has a weird sense of humor and I hate to admit that I've been goading her lately. Something tells me that this has gone too far."

Her murderous glare reinforces the massive understatement.

Really, I'm going to strangle Parker. I get that her brain doesn't see the world like most of us, but the idea of rules and boundaries should not be a constant foreign language lesson for all parties. There are days I feel like I'm trying to teach algebra to a dog.

A painful jerk on my wrist informs me that my new 'pal' is on the move and I go with it, determined not to exacerbate the situation. There's a coffee shop nearby and she snappily orders a black house drip that I nod in agreement to. Then we gather the cups, her scowl when she tries to use that trapped right hand is a truly baleful expression and I can't help the ripple of self-pity. Why me?

In a booth with our trapped hands hidden under the table, those blazing green eyes focus fully on me. Again, I can't help but cringe, seeing no easy way out of this, but also stunned at just attractive this stranger is. Not only is she just plain classically beautiful, but the fiery personality in every move her lanky body makes is incredibly appealing.

Really, this is some sort of cosmic revenge for something I must have done.

Because there's no graceful way out of this, I settle for a goodly part of the truth. Not generally my working MO, but full disclosure seems like a damn good idea about now. "Parker used to be a professional thief and an incredibly good one. Now she tests security systems for my company. I'm her handler, for lack of a better term. She's my only charge, because she's more than enough for even me to handle. And this," I briefly rattle the cuffs, "is exactly her style."

For a long moment the woman stares not really at me exactly, but almost through me. It's a trick I know and I hate that it makes me squirm. I have a bad feeling about what this woman must be.

"What's your name," she asks bluntly, catching me completely off guard. Boy, no beating around the bush with this one. "If I'm going to be embarrassingly chained to you for the foreseeable future and involved in whatever revenge is in store for this prank, I might as well at least get your name. I'm Detective Stella Bonasera, by the way, NYPD."

Of course she is… Angry with my charge, but far angrier with myself for letting this go this far, I slump over and bang my forehead on the scarred formica. The pain is bracing and I do it a couple more times for good measure. This was supposed to be a quiet job in the Big Apple, dammit! Get in, get out, move the fuck on. But no, I had to get caught up in stupid mind games that will get me killed someday and here I am in this completely fucked up predicament.

"Damn you, Parker. Damn you," I curse my missing operative, ashamed of my whining lack of control and completely unable to stop it. "Oh, why did you have to be a cop?"

Childishly feeling a little better for the immature temper tantrum, no matter how brief, I try to pull together the tattered remains of my self esteem and straighten up to look the beautiful cop in the eye. Though my embarrassed gaze has a tough time holding hers.

"Ruth Truewell. I'm a psychiatrist and former mercenary with an organization I'd rather not name. I left it all behind."

To my surprise, Bonasera merely nods at the explanation, once more catching me off guard. One doesn't meet a stranger claiming to be a mercenary every day. Not even as a detective in the biggest city in America. "So I look like someone you two work with? Someone involved in this practical joke war?"

Okay, if she can roll with the punches, dammit, so can I. Still off kilter, I roughly shove my free hand through my shaggy hair-- I need to get it cut-- a nervous habit I thought I'd trained out of myself.

Sighing melodramatically, I do my best to clarify all of this further, not just for her benefit, I can wryly admit to myself. "It's why I had sidled over to you, truthfully. I'd have sworn you were Jackie until just as the cuff snicked closed and Parker was already gone. I really should know better than to goad her on. Dammit…" Starting to recover from the shock, I'm already planning ahead how to get out of this, secretly thankful at least I'm not in any actual danger, as the nice detective hasn't threatened me… yet. "Without the jacket, you're clearly not Jackie, you're lusher than she is and that hair is even more gorgeous. I swear this whole stupid game started because I don't know who has a bigger crush on her, me or Parker."

My mouth has run on without permission from my common sense and the collision of teeth reverberates through my skull as I snap my jaw shut. Wow, this pretty thing really has me rattled and I stare at her like a deer in headlights. I so did not just blurt this out to a stranger I'm handcuffed too…

For long moments, the detective's expression is deadpan, her green eyes still dissecting me methodically. I can't remember the last time I felt this… exposed. It's completely freaking me out, and strangely hot.

Her laughter is a relief to us both, the unfettered sound carrying through the coffee shop and changing her serious face. Impossibly, it makes her even more beautiful, transforming her face and shaking her whole body.

"Really, I'm waiting for the camera crew," she grins at me and I do my best to return the expression around my nerve-induced nausea. "In truth, I'd rather not admit to my team that I was caught off guard enough to be in this position in the first place. So let's come up with a plan, shall we?" Pathetically grateful, I nod willingly, caught up in her energy. "Besides, you need to up the ante enough that she doesn't want to play anymore, right?"

Whoa, time to stop that train of thought in the station. "Umm, that doesn't exactly work with Parker, I'm afraid."

"Oh? Why not?" Not hostile, but curious. Good.

"Because she's a borderline sociopath, who thankfully works for the side of good," is the easiest way to even attempt to explain Parker to a stranger. "Well, mostly anyway. Boundaries are tough with her. So are rules, but I can get her to obey if there's a clear reason. Right now, there's no clear reason. You don't seem to be inclined to harm me for all of this, so she won't see that she's gone too far. Besides, we both really thought…"

"I know, I know. Jackie, the mutual crush," she breaks in and grins when I can't keep from squirming in embarrassment. This is like being a nervous teenager again. "So where do you think this Parker has gotten off to?"

At last, a plain, mundane problem my poor rattled brain can latch onto. With a lifetime of practice, I pull up my mental computer, reviewing notes and dates and times and invoices. I don't impress my hired hacker for nothing. Then I remember where Parker has spirited off to and the whole damn house of cards collapses around my ears.

"God, Stella, I'm sorry. I completely forgot her fuck-buddy is in town and they're off in some isolated cabin somewhere, no doubt screwing like bunnies. Another cop, ironically, from our mutual old stomping ground, before we worked together."

I get the pleasure of watching her thoughtful expression as she processes that.

"Could we track the cop buddy?"

"We could try."

Nodding, she continues to think intently and I wisely stay silent and let her do her thing. After a moment her expression clears and she jumps up with a contagious grin, enthusing, "come on, Ruth."

Forced to follow the pull on my wrist, I scramble to my feet and grab my coffee cup as I'm dragged outside. To my flummoxed astonishment, she twines her fingers with mine and slides them both into her warm coat pocket. The completely unexpected intimacy, regardless of being perpetrated by the damn handcuffs, makes my belly flutter pleasantly. A reaction I squash down violently.

For a few minutes we amble down the street with the sort of casualness like we do this every day. The false intimacy of it all is jarring to all of my iron defenses, rattles my bars so to speak.

"So, do you work here?" Stella asks casually and I can only stare disbelievingly at her.

"Are you really gonna chat me up, detective?"

In response to my blunt incredulity, Stella laughs that unfettered laugh again, warming me. The sweet squeeze of her fingers in mine make my traitorous guts quiver again.

"Since we're connected at the hip, so to speak and must look mighty cozy about now, sure, Ruth, I'm chatting you up."

I can't help glancing down at her pocket and the bump of our twined hands and give in to her logic. Forcing myself to relax, I step closer to her body, our shoulders almost touching.

"We were working on that new financial complex in Queens. Happy now?"

The minx ignores the grumble in my voice and she echoes the smile I just can't stop. This has turned into quite the bizarre and interesting day. With a familiarity that no one accords me anymore, Stella bumps shoulders playfully with me and sasses, "there, now was that so hard?"

Okay, if she wants to play, I can do that. Waiting for the perfect moment, I admire the ambiance of the glorious city around us. Only when she's in mid-sip of her coffee do I strike with my driest deadpan. "Well, at least we're in the Village."

Her spluttering in humor, nearly sending coffee down her chest, makes me grin smugly. Stella's very easy to get along with and probably even easier to like. I carefully ignore that thought.

"Smartass," she deadpans back and I grin happily. Really, I'm not only enjoying her company, but tremendously relieved that she's not threatening me with violence or legal repercussions. Strangely, she seems caught up in the absurdity of this wild goose chase. "You're going to owe me dinner and a crack at lecturing Parker for this, by the way."

"My pleasure, detective."

"Really, Ruth, I think you can move past the formalities now. It's Stella, remember?"

I shouldn't be so absurdly pleased by the gift of using her personal name, but I am. "Okay, Stella. You got it."

In a strangely companionable quiet we wander until I spot a pay phone and point her towards it. Then Stella digs a few coins out of her pocket and I try not to giggle over watching her awkwardly fumble with the cuffed right hand. Her temper is antsy again as she plies bureaucratic waters on the distastefully grimy phone. When she finally gets who she's after, her relief is almost comical.

"Oh, Lindsey, thank god. Yes. Listen, I've had a really weird day and I need your help. I'm fine. I got caught up in a juvenile prank that lost me my badge, keys and wallet. Seriously, don't ask, I'm not even sure I can fully explain it. The person who has them is here for a weekend with a lover. Ruth, what's the buddy's name?"

Having spaced out to the melodic sound of her voice, I jerk my attention to the here and now. "Inspector Lindsay Boxer, San Francisco PD."

After repeating that information to the person on the other end of the line, she continues to solve problems. "Look, Lindsey, I don't want to make a big deal of this, I'm embarrassed enough as it is. Since the lover is a cop, I'm not panicking that my badge is going to be used for nefarious purposes, I just want my stuff back. It was a case of mistaken identity. The other half of the joke assures me of that."

Feeling the need to contribute somehow, I lightly touch Stella's arm to get her attention. "Tell your teammate if she can't find Boxer to track down Cindy Thomas at the San Francisco Register or Jill Bernhardt at the DA's office. They ought to be able to track her down discreetly. Besides, they'll give Boxer so much shit that even Parker might think twice about this sort of thing in the future."

Part of me feels bad for getting Boxer into hot water, but really, what can I do? I'm chained to a NYPD detective for god sake. Hopefully, she'll understand.

Chuckling evilly, Stella relays the info and makes plans with this Lindsey to meet us nearby. When I follow her gaze, I too spot the dive bar and can't argue with the sudden need for a bracing drink. Thankfully, Parker left me my wallet and I happily whip out a twenty for a pair of bracing beers that leads to a surprisingly amicable and easy chat with my new pal. Stella is smart as a whip and witty with a fiercely sassy edge that is intoxicating. I find myself more open and relaxed with her than I have any right to be, but absolutely cannot help myself. Her laugh is infectious and I bask in the happiness of this completely unexpected afternoon of time with this lovely stranger.

Eventually, something intrudes in on our bonding, making Stella light up happy relief and jump up, jerking painfully at our wrists. Ouch, that's going to leave a mark. The small woman in the doorway, darkly blonde and girl-next-door attractive, arches an eyebrow and cracks, "Must be some practical joke." Her eyes are on the cuffs, our trapped hands hanging impotently from the bracelets. "Do you want me to see if I can get someone with some really big pliers to snip those?"

My heavy sigh is not at all feigned. "Oh, if only that would work, detective. I'm afraid Parker is just perverse enough to have something made of stuff stronger than mere steel. Besides, there's a weird sheen to the metal of these things."

"Okay," she concedes and steps over to accept a one-armed hug from Stella. "But you're in for a drive. I found a cabin rental in Boxer's name just outside Catskill."

In response to my groan, Stella grabs my fingers and gives my arm a funny, friendly little shake. "Well, at least it's a pretty drive. Think I can steal your car for a bit, Monroe?"

It is indeed a pretty drive as we head towards upstate New York, arriving in Catskill as dusk approaches. By the time we get to the actual cabin, it's nearly dark and we skulk towards the small building and the chorus of raunchy feminine voices within. Despite my sore and exhausted left arm, having had to dangle impotently while Stella drove, I expertly wield the little bit of metal and plastic I'd scrounged from the car to easily pick the basic lock. It's exhilarating in an illicit sort of way to use these shadowy skills, undaunted by the near-dark conditions. Really, I can do this in my sleep.

Stella takes the initiative, padding quietly through the cabin, weapon of revenge gripped tight in her cuffed hand. It's perfect, the mirrored astonishment of the interrupted lovers as the flash starts firing like a strobe light, imprinting the moment in the big camera's memory.

They're both stunned and confused, but Parker reacts first, glaring at Stella. "You're not Jackie."

It's so like Parker to fixate on something like that and I sigh in almost fond exasperation at her quirks.

"Nope," Stella agrees cheerfully and allows the camera to dangle from its cord around her neck. "And you need to be more careful of your marks, girl. Frankly, you're damn lucky I don't run you in for all manner of illegal activities."

Brains still processing, neither Parker nor Boxer react, their stunned gazes flickering back and forth between Stella and I.

"Parker!" Stella barks with enough authority to make the rest of us jump. "The wallet. Did you even look at it?" A negative shake of her head makes Stella smile evilly. "Your friend there would recognize what's in it. Only they call us detectives in this city."

Much to the amusement of myself and the woman I'm handcuffed to, Boxer groans in comic dismay and collapses to the bed to hide under the pillows as best she can.

"But you're supposed to be Jackie," Parker repeats helplessly and she's starting to get upset. Luckily, Stella is sensitive to this strange creature I have found myself working with and relents.

"Look, the joke went way too far this time, Parker. You have to be more careful. And you really need to listen more closely to Ruth, okay?" Miserable, Parker nods, her expression contrite. Hooray for the calm cop-voice! I'm so relieved that not only will this trial be over soon, but Parker may actually get that this really did go too far. Businesslike now, Stella asks briskly, "Now, where are the keys? In truth, I'm a little tired of these and would like to use the bathroom in private."

Her and me both. Except Parker has that look that I know. The one that says she's done something she suspects is a bad thing and is trying to figure out how to tell me. "Ummm… I'm really sorry not-Jackie, but the keys are in Ruth's hotel room. Along with your stuff."

At my wit's end, I rub my hands over my face roughly, distantly grateful that Stella allows me the freedom of movement to do so. "Of course they are," I growl to no one in particular.

"But wait," Parker brightens as she leaps from the bed, characteristically uncaring that she's buck naked and showing obvious signs of the interrupted sexual athletics. "I can get them off. Come sit in the light."

Halfway past us and to the living room, Parker pauses when Boxer roars, "robe, Parker!" Has the inspector's voice always had that strong trace of Texan? Shame on me for missing that important detail. The lanky, dark cop accepts my silent look of sympathy as Parker flounces back in to retrieve the aforementioned article of clothing and pick up where she left off.

While I'm always fascinated by Parker's talents-- I swear she's like the magical fairy of illegal skills-- Stella carefully keeps her gaze away from the busy hands. With what amounts to little more than what I jimmied the basic deadbolt with, Parker releases the sophisticated mechanism of her cuffs around Stella's wrist. The taller woman is off like a shot for the bathroom while my charge repeats her magic on my cuff as well.

Stella's sympathetic grin as we switch places warms me.

With my bladder quieted and my antsy body calming, I wash up and wander back out, cocking a curious brow at Stella's chuckling and Parker's intent stare at the unknown in her midst. But, before I can say a word, Stella hooks her recently freed arm around mine and drags me towards the still open front door. "Come on then, secret agent woman, you owe me dinner. And help with a plausible cover story."

"Yes ma'am," I chuckle with true affectionate mirth, delighted with my so very strange day with this minx.

To my even greater amusement, Stella pauses in the cloud-dimmed moonlight and calls loudly back towards the house. "Good night, you two!"

Bet Boxer is paralyzed with embarrassment all over again. Poor baby. Things are never predictable around Parker.

Jostling my trapped arm to her side, Stella grins at me. "Next time you're in town, mystery woman, we'll have to hang out again."

"Without the cuffs?" I tease wryly and we laugh all the way back to the car.

 

**Part 2**

I could have never predicted what changes Parker's ill-advised prank have wrought. In fact, if I could thank her without confusing the hell out of her, I would. After a night in a Catskill hotel, my treat, Stella and I made our way back to the Big Apple to enjoy a very nice lunch at a place where she tried to object to the price. But I won out and enjoyed spoiling the hard working public servant that little bit.

Saying goodbye to her had been a strange experience, our forced intimacy suddenly awkward. Still relaxed from her company and the fine food, I'd missed the cues and the quick, hard hug took me off guard.

The innocently erotic press of that fine body to mine still lingers in the back of my mind, a demon of pleasure I cannot exorcise. Pressing a crisp business card into my hand and brushing what felt like a teasing caress over the faintly blue bruises the cuffs had left, she stepped away.

My last memory is of Stella Bonasera flipping those intoxicating curls to one side to grin saucily over her shoulder and calling, "see you around, mystery woman!"

It was more than a week later before I forced myself to stop being a jerk and dial the digits she left me. Unfortunately, she'd been at a crime scene, but I choked down my nerves and disappointment and rattled off a number she could reach me at. To my gratification, it was just a few hours later that she called me back.

We'd talked for nearly two hours while she sat at her work computer doing paperwork and told me what I had missed. About how she had been visited by a still-sheepish Inspector Boxer, full of apologies that Stella had laughed off. Then she'd handed over a disk with the only record of the incriminating evidence. And, just a couple of days she'd taken her Lindsey and the new baby to a day spa for some R&amp;R and a full disclosure of our strange adventure.

I don't talk much, enjoying her rambling at me, missing her voice when it's time for her to go. But my strange work keeps me ridiculously busy contrasted with long periods of hurry up and wait where I have too much damn time to think. Even Parker seems fascinated with the woman, sending a periodic email or few, as carefully and oddly worded as a small child making a card for her parent. Elliot and Alec tease us both about the replacement crush of the 'non-Jackie' who, luckily, we haven't had to work with since New York. That would be just confusing, considering how mixed up I am over Stella!

As the months roll by, I look forward to the emails and phone calls and text messages. It's like I've gained some strange Parker-esque magical skill about Stella, knowing just when she needs a sympathetic ear or a good chuckle. The long-distance intimacy both heartens and scares me. None of this makes sense, none of this is safe or sane or quantifiable.

Yet, I cannot resist her.

Things come to a head after we skirt the law during a job in Jamaica that leaves us all feeling a little edgy. It was too close for comfort and the stress is getting very close to making us very sloppy. It's the first time I consciously call Stella purely for selfish reasons. The conversation is no different than our usual fare, work talk with no details, stories about our coworkers, things that have happened to us since we last spoke.

It's been nearly two days since then and I'm a jittery mess.

No, I don't see it coming, any more than I acknowledge why I'm such a mess in the first place. They appear in the doorway of the suite room that has acted as my office and eye me with various shades of concern and fascination. I don't really blame them. After all, this highly emotional state is definitely not my usual behavior.

"You gotta go, boss," Elliot growls in that unique way of his. "Really, you're drivin' us crazy. Go talk to her, take a few days off. We'll yell when work comes down the pipe again."

Parker is nodding brightly, her grin wide. Alec steps forward with my familiar satchel held out like a peace offering. "Go on," he prods gently, definitely the most sensitive of our strange quartet. "We'll be okay without you for a bit." Then he grins mischievously. "Besides, it isn't like you can go anywhere I can't find you."

So, here I am, on a flight from sunny Jamaica to wintry New York. I'd paused long enough to change into wool slacks and grab my favorite warm coat from my room before having Elliot run me over to the airport. Trusting Alec, I didn't even check my paperwork and documentation, knowing that he takes great pride in being accurate on that sort of thing. However, none of them thought to pack a change of clothes or even a toothbrush for me. Ah, mundane things like that is my area of expertise. I can provision myself in New York.

The bag has my laptop, of course, and someone, probably Parker, thoughtfully slipped in a decent wad of cash to save me the trouble of procuring it myself. That was sweet of her. Some research on the computer gets me the address where Stella works so that I have a starting point.

I'm starting to really feel the anticipation as we touch down at JFK with the forest of skyscrapers in the cloudy distance. Bag in hand, I make my way to the line of taxis and I'm on my way into town. There's a delay at the vast police building where I wait impatiently for them to find, not Stella, but Lindsey Monroe.

"She's off today," the young woman explains after greeting me politely. "But I remember her saying something about taking a walk in Central Park."

With the cross streets closest to Stella's building as a starting point, I start playing detective. In the damp cold outside, what a shock of change from where I've been, I pull out the most impressive of the incognito toys Alec has provided me with. Oh, it looks like one of the beefier iPhones, but it's so much more. How that boy loves to tinker! This damn thing can do all sorts of fun tricks that would make Apple drool. So I use it to triangulate my best options for searching and cab over there.

I'm half rigid with cold when I spot a flash of caramel curls that stop me in my tracks. Sure enough, it's her, the black coat stark against the snow and winter-bare trees. A searching look reveals no gate in nearby, but the wall is low and Stella is wandering my way. So I take a moment, sitting comfortably on the wall, to study the fascinating woman. She seems thoughtful, perhaps even melancholy as she scuffs her way through the old snow.

Wanting to see her smile, I call out playfully, "y'know, sunshine is overrated anyhow."

Jerking around, her face is a mask of astonishment and I smile genuinely. The flood of warmth as her expression shades to delight catches me off guard; just as much as her burst of speed that rocks me back with the force of the flying tackle-hug. Delighted, I hug her hard to me, relishing the contact.

"Hi," she murmurs against my collarbones, her voice sounding oddly shy. "You snuck up on me."

"I did," I agree easily, fighting the flare of hopeful want in my heart and guts. Stop it Ruth! "Lindsey was very helpful in that."

Leaning back a bit to glare at me, her eyes are far greener than I remember; a burst of warm color in this stark place. "At least it wasn't Mac," she complains with no malice. "He teases me enough about you, dammit."

Then the brightness of her eyes overflows, stunning me with a pair of crystal tears cascading down her sculpted cheekbones. Overwhelmed with concern, I tighten my grip on her, not caring about my back's objections to the strange, hunched position I'm in atop the wall. "Hey, you okay?"

Stella sniffles and shrugs, her expression unreadable, even to me. "Just happy to see you."

Moved by her emotions, feeling the prick of tears myself, I grip the woman in a bear hug and she sniffles quietly against my coat. Feeling helpless to comfort her, feeling helpless in the face of my own roiling emotions, I rub my cheek against the springy, soft curls, and stroke her back and shoulders comfortingly.

Really, I have no idea how it happens. One moment I'm holding her in comfort and hello, delicately pressing a friendly kiss to the corner of one wet eye. She turns into the gesture and suddenly, like one of my illicit fantasies, we're kissing there at the edges of busy Central Park.

Some part of me rants at how bad an idea this is. Such a bad, bad idea! But the intoxicating taste of her curious mouth, laced with the flavor of the fallen coffee, is a siren song I am obviously incapable of resisting. With a soft sound of curiosity and surrender, Stella reaches up to twine a gloved hand into my shaggy hair-- it needs cutting again-- and tilts her head to deepen the kiss.

The hustle and bustle around me fades, lost in this sweet, loving interaction, so completely unexpected. She's caught me so utterly off guard that a knife in the ribs would barely distract me right now. All my vaunted alertness and rigid self control is gone in a flash with this woman's kiss. Pressing all the more tightly to my willing body, Stella fiddles around a bit, almost distracting me, then buries her suddenly bare hand in my hair, her skin as fiercely hot as her sensuous mouth.

When she does let me up for air, I am utterly flummoxed. All I can do is stare idiotically at her and mumble, "wow." The smirk of smug feline pleasure that she's reduced me to monosyllables is strangely adorable and I roughly clear my throat, trying to regain some sense of sanity. Affectionately brushing away a lock of curls disturbed by the cold breeze, I note my hand is actually shaking. "I've been trying to figure out how to beat back this fascination I seem to have for you. I wasn't expecting this. Not the feelings, not that you apparently might be feeling something too."

"Me either," Stella agrees with remarkable aplomb, flooring me again. "I didn't figure it out until just now. Buy you breakfast, soldier of fortune?"

Such a minx! Really, you'd think I'd learn not to underestimate her. Unable and unwilling to fight the affection I feel for her, I grin and tilt her chin up with cold fingers for a sweet, chaste kiss. "I'd like nothing better," I husk throatily, relieved to see the warm interest in her mossy gaze. Feeling a little less shell-shocked, I playfully push Stella away and swing my legs over to the street side of the wall and stand there, waiting for her.

For a moment, Stella gooks stymied, looking around for a gate, same as I had done earlier. Then she shrugs, takes a few steps back and runs for the wall, neatly vaulting it. My laughter is genuine and she bows with a flourish and fumbles with her right glove. But I take a chance, capturing her snow-wet fingers and tucking our twined fingers into that safe haven of her pocket. Amazing how such a simple gesture can warm me.

"Remind me to thank Parker," she murmurs with a squeeze to my hand and I just grin. "Have you always been this short?" Startled and mockingly aghast at her sass, I give her a mildly rough shoulder bump that makes her stumble and glare. Not that the sour expression has any affect, since her eyes are bright with mirth.

"Yes, dammit, I have always been this short. Even Parker's got a centimeter or so on me. Don't gloat, Amazon." My attempt to match her mock surly earns me the laugh I wanted. How I have missed that lovely sound…

"It's only what looks like a couple inches," she chuckles teasingly. "It's not that bad."

"No it's not," escapes me before I can edit it, the sappy sweet tone of my own voice making my ears hot. Though I can't help but notice that Stella looks a little flushed too. So I once more try for some semblance of normalcy and catch her up on my impulsive trip north. "Despite the gorgeous surroundings, I didn't want to stay. That and my team ganged up on me and basically threw me out. Besides, Parker was probably having company, if you know what I mean." Even to my own ears I sound aggrieved and affectionate. Really, that girl is the most fascinating enigma. "We have to be in one another's heads so much that getting away is paramount. So I was impulsive and came here."

"What, you weren't itching to?"

I realize that she's teasing me, but I fear that my traitorous eyes are giving me away as Stella eyes me intently before shrugging with forced nonchalance.

"Come on, New York in the winter is irresistible, right?" The mind games and the confusion on my hormones and emotions make me sigh gustily and roll my eyes, not liking this vulnerability; yet relishing it at the same time. Really, I shouldn't even bother to be shocked as she jerks me to a halt and ducks in close to kiss me, right there on the busy street.

It's not a blatantly seductive kiss, but the teasing caress of her lush mouth on mine makes me shiver in awareness. With a funny animal sound that speaks of arousal and confusion, Stella pulls away to drop her head to my shoulder and I enjoy the tickle of her wild hair on my face and neck.

"Totally unexpected," she whispers against my collar and I tenderly stroke the nape of her neck in empathy.

Thankfully, the mundane need for sustenance restores our equilibrium, prompted by the lovely smells coming from a nearby shop. Starved, I muse over the yummy-looking things in the case as we wait in the line. Stella insists she has no opinion and I order a healthy and obviously fresh chicken wrap, hesitate over the luscious cinnamon rolls bigger than both of my fists combined and figure, oh why the hell not? Stella gets coffee and we convene at a tiny café table and catch up like old friends.

The energy isn't gone, but simmers under the surface. It's strange and intoxicating and more fun than I usually let myself have. After all, this gorgeous and spunky woman has made her attraction plain, why am I being a pain about it?

But I know why, and even as I chat pleasantly with Stella, my brain can't help but worry over my past, present and future. In my business, you don't retire. You either end up six feet under or must remain a sharp enough set of skills to maintain respect in that shadowy community. I don't run the shadowy edges of lawful society because I enjoy it anymore, though I can't deny the thrill. I do it to survive. The very normalcy of this woman shakes me to my core. How I want to give in to her many temptations… and how I really should resist.

Yet I was the one to impulsively hop on a plane and come rushing here to see her.

Before I can get worked into a vicious circular argument, my phone buzzes sharply against my hip, making me jump in surprise. I recognize the cadence of the rapid triple vibration and flash Stella an apologetic glance as I retrieve the insistent device. Habitually half turning away so that lip readers would be challenged, I key the incoming call. "Yes Alec?"

"Ruth, damn I'm glad you answered," Alec flusters over the flawlessly clear line. "Listen Sheik Beni whatever-the-hell-his-name-is just called freaking out about that security system we installed in November."

"God, really? This soon? That idiot." The long-suffering annoyance in my tone is authentic. The money for that job had been fabulous, but in retrospect, makes the whole group of us wonder if it had been worth it.

"If I'm lying I'm dying. Man, I couldn't have made that thing any more idiot proof if it'd been run off a gaming console. Seriously, all that…"

I'd better stop the geeking rant if we want to get the problem solved. "Yes, I know the system is simple enough for a ten year old; clearly this is what makes him an idiot." Soothing Alec's pride over his miraculous skills has the effect I wanted by calming him.

"Look, I can head for Dubai this evening, but the tough guy is whining." In the background, I hear Elliot protest vehemently, even if I can't quite make out the actual words.

"I figured Elliot would be happy to get back to one of his many ports of call," I drawl wryly, goading the warrior.

"Yeah, well I don't think the sheik's gonna be too happy to see me after I was flirting with his assistant," Elliot yells and I can hear him storm out. That confirms my suspicions that something unprofessional had gone down during our last trip to Dubai.

"Oh, I see. Hmmm," I muse to myself, searching for a solution.

"I could just go," Alec offers hesitantly and I instantly quash that.

"No! Dammit, Alec don't you dare wander into the lion's den alone."

"But he'll yell."

"I don't care how much he yells. Tell Elliot I'll owe him a favor if he'll get the sheik off our ass by going with you."

"A favor huh? Like maybe the boss lady can make some amends to the arrogant jerk?"

Sucking up to the sheik is not something that will be fun, but I'll do it for my strange little work family. This is what I've been reduced to, babysitting at a dangerous and potential level. Sigh.

"Perfect, tell him that. So are we good?"

"Yeah, we're good. Now make sure your New York hottie doesn't let you get frostbite," he laughs and I clamp down on the urge to flush. There are few secrets in our little cabal.

"Yes, thank you mom, I'll do that," I growl. "Goodbye Alec." He's still laughing as I key the line dead, but I can't be too annoyed with him. Stella is grinning over the edge of her coffee cup as I return my attention to her. "Sorry Stella. That was my geek worried over a cranky client. The boys can handle it."

Questions shade her eyes greener, the need to ask and analyze a palpable question in her gaze. It's a tense moment as we teeter there at the edge of where neither of us can go. Then her gaze clears and when she speaks, her voice is bright and cheerful. "Any plans while you're in town, sexy?"

Once more she has broadsided me. Here I'm all bristled up in preparation of keeping my shadowy life secret, dodging her inevitable questions and she hits me with that. Clearly I am continuing to underestimate her. Well, not more of that! "You are a minx," I compliment matter-of-factly and she giggles coyly. "And, no, no plans. I barely remembered to dress warmly when I left Jamaica. I just really wanted to see you and had some time on my hands."

"Flatterer."

So that sets the mood for possibly the most pleasantly relaxed and normal days of my life; despite the cold and my confused emotions and the weight of the satchel on my shoulder. We wander the streets of New York and play tourist like teenage girls. It's bizarre and euphoric, this sense of normalcy, this day on the town with a lovely lady paying me such welcome attention. Though I still vacillate, part of me railing that this is a Bad Idea. But Stella seems to sense when I grow twitchy, pulling me aside and distracting my voice of reason with sweet kisses.

My alertness never drops, ingrained into me to be as natural as breathing. Most of the time, Stella simply ignores it, taking it as what it is, just a part of me. Only twice does my cold and implacable work persona rise to the forefront. Poor Alec gets the sharp edge of my tongue at his whining about a problem that he and Elliot can handle, the interruption to my day not at all welcome. Once I take the verbal newspaper to his puppy nose, he relents and figures out the solution himself, which is what he should have done in the first place. This is why I'm in charge, and not one of them. I'm the problem solver and the voice of experience and reason. If I didn't know how important we were to the sheik, ensuring their safety, there's no way in hell I'd be letting the boys go there alone.

The second is the rude bitch in line at Macy's where I'm waiting to purchase a much needed pair of warm gloves and hat. The loud yammering about airy nonsense on her cell is ignorable, as well as the loud, shrill questions to the poor staff as she tries to make herself more important then she is I can ignore. But when she bumps into me a third time she triggers off self-sustaining instincts about my personal space.

Some part of me is gratified that she visibly blanches and flinches away from the look I level at her. This will be an interaction she won't soon forget. Stella exacerbates the situation by laughing shortly and waving as the woman retreats in a hurried huff.

"Rude bitch," I comment calmly as explanation to the next woman in line for my behavior. She seems thankful that we can all get our shopping completed now, chuckling at my comment.

Stella is clearly enjoying this time off from having to be the alert detective, relying on my considerable skills. The trust warms me. When she makes a crack about not doing enough 'real' police work, I can't stop the laughter.

In time, I'm losing the battle with exhaustion though. We'd been running at full tilt for nearly two weeks and I've only had a single good night's sleep since. Couple that with the impulsive flight here and it's really not a shock. Still, I hate having my self-defensive reactions slowed and I've enduring far worse. Something about the movements of the subway screws around with my body's alertness, making me feel heavy and rubbery-kneed.

Stella catches my slip, the little stumble against the movement of the train, the blink of tiredness. She sighs with affectionately tolerance, sounding so much like Parker it disorients me for a moment, and gathers up my smaller body in a warm hug. There's no resisting her and I lean in heavily, relying on her to watch my back for the moment.

"You need a nap, globe trotter," she murmurs and I snort inelegantly. "Where's your hotel?"

"Dunno. I haven't gotten that far yet," I admit somewhat sheepishly.

"Really? Wait, you mean you don't have any luggage or anything?" I shake my head against her shoulder, not wanting to leave this warm place. "So let me get this straight. You impulsively hopped on a plane from frickin' Jamaica after working for long enough that clearly even your staff thought you needed a break to come see me?" Since she's put it that way, it does sound insane. Tucking her head onto my shoulder, her voice goes soft and loving, making my insides dance. "That is by far the sweetest and most ridiculously romantic and slightly stupid thing I've ever heard of."

Chuckling, I hug her hard in complete agreement.

**Part 3**

The murmur of Stella's voice stirs me from a black sleep and I blink back to life, looking around the unfamiliar room. The space smells of her, the subtle scents particularly heavy in the bed I've been warming. We'd left the subway and walked to her building, I remember now. I'd been so tired I only vaguely remember that and her handing me the sweatpants and t-shirt I'm now wearing.

Curious about who Stella is talking to, I stand and pad barefoot to the door, cracking it open to see her at a desk on her cell phone.

"I don't know who's the worse matchmaker," she chortles snarkily at the phone, "you or Lindsey. Are you playing tonight? Maybe we'll swing by and you can meet my mercenary." The strangely endearing term startles me pleasantly. "Later."

"Your mercenary?" I ask curiously, startling Stella into dropping the phone as she twists around in the chair.

"You are so quiet!" she accuses and I shrug and walk over, still feeling punch-drunk from the hard nap. Wanting to be close, but still confused, I pause there at Stella's knees, unsure of myself. Again, I have underestimated her, as she wraps long arms around me to pull my smaller frame onto her lap. After a startled moment, I melt into her comforting body. "Did you sleep well?"

"Mmm hmm. You have a nice bed. Thanks."

"Mac has taken to calling you my mercenary," she explains and I have to chuckle softly. It's strangely sweet. "He plays bass with a local band and we're going to meet him later. You'll like him. Great guy."

"Sure, it sounds like fun," I agree easily and try to coax my body from this lovely warm spot. No luck so far. "Could I borrow your computer for a few minutes to do some shopping? I really did show up with nothing."

"No problem," she agrees willingly and hugs me, giving me the strength to sit up and lean away a bit to stand up. But then I see her eyes, so close, and the relaxed warmth is suddenly charged like lightning.

I only get a moment's warning as her eyes change intent, determined and hot. Then her mouth is on mine, coaxing at me to open up and indulge. Still sleepy and relaxed, I can't resist, burying my fingers in her irresistible curls, holding on for dear life as she kisses me senseless.

When she moans throatily, I panic… sort of… and yank my head back, desperately fighting for some semblance of control. My grip in her hair holds her still and I press my tingling mouth to her temple, panting like a racehorse. "Damn Stella," I whisper harshly, completely rattled.

"I seem to like kissing you," she murmurs softly with a smug edge in her tone, her breath hot between us.

"Yeah, got that," I sass sarcastically and regret the faint flinch in her body. Because of that, I don't fight her when she shifts us into a cuddle. "You make me feel safe and relaxed, Ruth. And I can't explain why I'm so inexplicably attracted to you and I don't want it to ruin our friendship. This is a first for me and I'm determined to not make a big deal that we're both women."

I had wondered about that, actually; though I'm flattered as hell at her wanting to break her mold for me. Well, if she can be brave, than so can I. So I tug at her hair until she can see my open expression. "You are unpredictable, Bonasera, and nothing at all what I expected when we became friends. You're also brave and possibly a little crazy."

"You only live once, right?" she smiles dreamily at me, deepening the flattery.

"Right," I agree with a grin. In for a penny, in for a pound as they say. "Would you like to go dancing? Surely there must be a couple of happenin' places in this little burg."

As I expected from this saucy New Yorker, she gasps in outrage, eyes flashing. "Don't you mock my town, foreigner!"

Thankfully, we seem to be okay again and get moving to continue our day on the town. Stella thrusts a richly hued purple shirt into my hands and closes the door to the bedroom, leaving me to get my shopping done online. The shower runs while I browse at a couple favorite sites, though I think it will be faster to just go there. After all, this is New York!

When Stella opens the bedroom door and poses like a pinup, I leer appreciatively and she giggles happily. I close down the browser and retreat to the bedroom to quickly change into my dirty clothes and her clean shirt. Definitely need to get more underthings and some good socks in addition to the outer layers! Running my tongue around my mouth, a toothbrush is on my list as well.

When I impulsively wrap my arms around Stella's waist and press my face between her shoulder blades, she giggles, a sweet, girlish sound. Tenderly, she lays her hands over mine, stroking the skin with sensitive fingertips. But after a few long moments, she squirms around and catches my melancholy before I can hide it.

"Ruth?" she asks with impossible gentleness and I smile sadly, caught up in my racing thoughts about all of this and my insane life. The warm press of her lips on my forehead cheers me though.

"You have been such an unexpected delight to me," I confess and feel her smile against my skin.

"Flatterer," she compliments and steps away to drag me towards the door. "Now come on, you promised a wild night in my little burg."

"Did I?"

"Cheeky."

Our night starts with a trip to Neiman-Marcus where I can acquire what I need with ruthless efficiency. In addition to lots of traveling and outfitting my entire team, I have a deadly eye for size and fit. Not to mention my girlie clotheshorse near-fetish that I do my best to keep under control adds to the skill. A wardrobe is a statement for me, assisting me to tell the story I want the world to know, be it the truth or not. So, in addition to my usual business casual, I grab a pair of jeans before skimming the lingerie and snatching up what I need.

Stella watches me with quiet curiosity, clearly impressed by my no nonsense approach to this 'mission'. But the way she eyes the handful of silky, lacy things in my hand makes my innards warm in completely carnal way. Thankfully, I spot a distracting sweater in raw wool and discreet fisherman cable patterns that I'm utterly thrilled with. It's like it was made for me, a perfect complement to my figure and coloring even with the thin bulk of the purple shirt beneath it. So I indulge, not even caring at the hefty price tag on the thing. It's warm and classy and that's perfect for my needs.

The speculation in those green eyes are going to drive me insane, but I do the best I can to ignore it. After the clothes are paid for, we make a quick stop at a corner drug store so that I can pick up a few sundries and a toothbrush. Then we're back at Stella's place where I can rush through a quick shower and happily yank on my clean new clothes.

Stella is not impressed with our first cabbie, startling me and making me laugh by climbing out of the cab at the first red light, uncaring that she's in the middle of the street. Almost immediately, another cabbie leans out his window and hollers for us to 'get our asses outta the street'. He proves to be a lot more fun and drops us off at a high-energy club where the crowd isn't so young as to make us feel self-conscious and the food is excellent. So, as far as I'm concerned, the cabbie more than earned the fifty I'd tossed him.

With some finger foods and a few drinks in me, I'm relaxed and starting to sweat in my winter clothes. So we bail out of the club and into the open air where we can chat again. Stella warms me by again capturing my hand and slipping it into that familiar pocket, a gesture I adore.

"You are so not usually this wild and impulsive," I comment lightly with a grin.

"What, and you are?" she sasses back. "Of course I'm not wild and impulsive. I'm a criminologist in the biggest city in America. I work like a dog, I see shit no sane person should see and I have a strong hunch that you've seen even worse." Abruptly, she steps in front of me, the two of us still attached by her pocket, and I'm brought up short as she stares into my eyes. Whoo boy, am I in trouble…

When Stella starts speaking, her voice is soft and intense. "We both need this. We both want this." Leaning in, I'm stunned at her gall, she zeros in to that soft spot just under and behind my ear that nearly drops me to the cement. My pulse thunders from crown to toes as she lightly suckles that sensitive tendon and the world falls away. "Stop thinking so much."

The beast inside me is so close to the surface, growling a feral sound that lights Stella's face up. Once more we retreat to mostly neutral ground and continue on our journey in high spirits. Whether I like it or not, she's under my skin and slipping behind the armor.

At a classy and well-patroned jazz club, Stella nudges me and gestures with her chin at the bass player, standing off to stage right, intent on his instrument and the other players. The band is good, classy and relaxing as we stand at the bar and sip at well made martinis. At this point all I can do is keep an eye out on this dance between us and try and keep up with the beat.

Mac and I hit it right off, much to Stella's bemused delight. I immediately recognize the warrior edge in him, something that is the cops of the city and something more. If he's not an ex-Marine, I'll be shocked as hell. We both speak that strange warrior language, even if our backgrounds are wildly different. By the time we leave, I feel as though I've made a friend and the promise of lunch when we all have time warms me.

I miss some exchange between the partners, one that leaves Stella laughing so hard she's doubled over in the cold night. "Remind me to swear him to secrecy about this," she giggles, gesturing between us, "Or the guys of my team will never leave me the hell alone."

"A little too much togetherness?" I sympathize and she nods.

"Oh yeah. I never had brothers, but they make up for that!"

We wander, eating and drinking like tourists. I even spot a corndog vendor and am seized by a fit of childish craving that makes Stella laugh and laugh. Kisses spicy from buffalo wings and savory from the taco that ruins my good coat keep my nerves humming to this marvelous creature's tune. We never linger long enough in any given place to draw attention from others and we're left to our own devices. Which, considering what a babe I'm with, actually surprises me.

By the time the heavy beat draws me into dragging her into a club we stumble across, I have had barely enough alcohol to dull my anxious nerves and I'm willing to go the next step. Surrounded by the wall of conversation-killing sound and insulated by the anonymity of the mixed crowd, we come together.

We fit together well, her tall, more angular body counterpoint to my sturdier build, her natural litheness point counterpoint to my own. Sinuously, we press close and let the roaring beat set the tone for the sensual heat between us. Like our hands have from the first, our bodies now melt together and concern for anything but this silent conversation of bodies fades away.

Face buried in Stella's irresistible curls, I breathe the scents trapped there, lips resting below her ear and my hands wander her swaying body. Some part of me is amused at the death grip she's taken on my waistband, her fingers convulsing against the small of my back as I explore.

Time fades away as I slowly mouth her throat, tasting her healthy sweat, unable to resist pressing curious teeth to the tendon that stands stark beneath her silky skin.

It's hot and sweetly amusing when she pulls her head back to stare at me like a hungry lioness before bodily dragging me into the biting cold. I'm left shivering as Stella ducks back in to get our temporarily forgotten coats and the bouncer smirks knowingly in my general direction.

When Stella returns with our coats, her expression is wild and almost threatened. Immediately, I feel badly and try to speak up as she hails down a cab. "Stella, I…"

Whatever I might have found the sense to say is gone as she bodily grabs me and shoves me roughly against the arrived cab. The green eyes are feral, her voice low and threatening. "Ruth, so help me god, if you don't take me back to my place and fuck me senseless I will go on some sort of homicidal rampage."

All I can do is stare.

The cab ride is silent, but I do take her hand, skimming gentle caresses over her tense knuckles. Neither of us dares look at the other with our hormones running hot and it's left me adrift, completely off kilter. The sensation is exhilarating and terrifying.

All the way to her building, the walk and the elevator ride, we avoid each other's gaze, determined to behave. Though I don't let her have that right hand back and the left shakes as she fumbles with the deadbolt. My head is spinning and the beast inside me wants out so bad I can practically taste it.

But that does not stop survival instincts clamping down on randy hormones as the door swings inward to reveal the dark cave of her apartment. Feeling out with carefully honed senses, I explore the sounds of the space, searching for anything out of the ordinary. Beside me, Stella does the same, a reminder that she too is a warrior in her own right.

Stepping in, I scan around one more time, nodding to myself in satisfaction as the deadbolt seals us away from the outside world.

And the beast is loose.

Snarling with all the pent-up need inside me, I pounce on Stella, surging into her body, pressing her against the solid door, kissing her until it almost hurts. Wet and wanton, we are a whirlwind of lips, tongue and teeth, my hands greedily dig into her magnificent ass, grinding her pelvis into mine while she roughly pulls my hair. She gives as good as she gets, no hesitation, no holding back.

In fact I gasp in shock, the sound lost among our tangled mouths, when she snakes curious fingers in to roll my nipples experimentally and the need to make some noise makes me jerk my head back.

"Nice," she hisses almost threateningly, disorienting me enough that when she shoves me, I stumble back, deeper into the apartment. While I gawk, she roughly yanks my coat off, though she's more careful with my new shirt. The look on her face as she stares at my breasts almost embarrasses me. As some sort of perverse need to gain some control of the situation, though god knows why, I open my mouth to speak, but she's quicker.

For a woman having never done this before, Stella is a hell of a quick study. When my low sounds are distressed, she gentles and I groan for real, completely caught up in her teasing mouth and those clever fingers on my nipples. When I try to beg for mercy, the sound is an incomprehensible rumble. With a deep, cleansing breath, I clarify. "Dammit, Stella, bed! Before I collapse. God, you are a wildcat!"

Grousing in protest, Stella nonetheless does so, flouncing away and peeling off her own shirt as she heads for the bed. Gasping for oxygen and some small measure of control, I follow, greedily ogling the sleek lines of her back.

"Sit," I order harshly and Stella does so with a thump, her hungry expression dragging me over like a magnet to iron. So I take a last deep breath --I have a feeling it will be a while before I get another-- and step in close. It's my turn to control the situation, to slow her down and make her absorb the whole experience. With a firm grip of those wild squiggles of autumnal hair, I force her to pay attention to my kisses, pouring everything have into them. Slow and sensual and patient, I seduce her in the play of our twined mouths and with silent promises to her ready body.

In the process, I too am lost.

Neither of us notes the passage of time as we learn one another, though I eventually straighten up to smile lovingly down at her. The power of her grip around my waist and hips belies her slender stature, which delights me. Then she breathes something exotic in a tongue vaguely familiar and my grin grows in delight.

"Greek?" I ask gently and start coaxing Stella to scoot fully onto the bed and stretch out. "Suits your good looks, though not that Italian last name." With this new lover sprawled out comfortably, I yank at her bootlaces and strip off the wet footgear and her socks while I continue to speak softly. "I have to say that I'm completely intimidated by your looks, sexy woman. All these months of intermittent fantasies haven't at all compared to the real thing. I meant it when I called you a wildcat!" My feline chuckle makes Stella whimper in need and I'm getting more and more into this. "Button, Stella."

It takes a moment for the request to get through, but then she fumbles loose the button and zipper on her slacks, shimmying loose from the fabric. Then I can yank them away with a flourish and let them fall, forgotten. In the ambient light from the city outside, I hungrily look over her long body, clad only in her silky lingerie.

"Look at how lovely you are," I compliment simply and rest my weight on the edge of the bed so that I can lean over her and breathe hotly over the taut skin of her left thigh. It's time now to earn the further trust of her body with this simple seduction, this breathing over her skin and inhaling the luscious smells of her. To my grateful amusement, Stella is vocal, whimpering and groaning, as well as physical, grabbing her pillow to twist it around her head. Relishing the impatient twitching of the long, strong muscles I mouth lightly, I travel all the way to the sharp jut of a womanly hipbone before repeating the whole effort on her right leg as well.

Rewarding my lover's patience, I like how that word sounds, I mouth more demandingly at her abdominal muscles and swab my searching tongue deeply into her navel. Panting and making encouraging noises, Stella once again fists my hair up in her hands, but does her best to not distract me. Resting my weight on my elbows, I stroke her sides, taking careful note at how she reacts to my touch. Several times she yanks at my skull and I finally snort with exasperated joy, making her squeak at the tickle.

All my scattered fantasies about this woman fade away at the visceral reality of her body against mine, the taste of her fine skin, the animal sounds of need she makes. Up the center of her body I make my way until she roughly jerks me into a kiss that pretty much curls my toes.

My concentration is getting fuzzy around the edges, lost in the heat between us. Stella's caressing my back, barely fumbling with the hooks on my new bra, making me chuckle into the heat of her mouth. Giggling like teenagers, we manage to peel hers over her head and she yanks my weight down atop her again. The intoxicating heat of her bare torso to mine chases sanity further away.

"God, you feel good," Stella murmurs hoarsely, stroking my back from nape to waistband. "Where the hell have you been all my life?"

As I always seem to be with this marvelous woman, I laugh freely and prop my weight on my elbows to study her darkened eyes. "I can sympathize with that sentiment."

"No big words, Ruth," she groans. "I can't process right now."

Completely flattered by her pliant body and impatient demands for my touch, I blindly feel my way down her fine torso, brushing sensitive spots on my way. She makes me chuckle again, tugging impatiently at my wrist until I slip my hand down to her deepest heat. To my faint surprise and causing a thrill of horny arousal, her fingers follow, mingling our touches on her hard clit. She cries out hoarsely as I slip a couple fingers deep, giving her sweating body something to cling to.

It doesn't take long, her body arching athletically, her cries loud and broken, possibly interspersed with more Greek, it's hard to tell. Shivering and moaning, Stella starts to come down from the orgasmic high as I gently stroke her a bit longer, drawing out the experience. She's adorable like this, and hot as hell, blinking sleepily at me. Surprising me yet again, she hugs my fingers to her body with strong thighs, clinging to my wrist, trapping my fingers deep in her heat.

"Stay," she whispers, body already gathering sexual resources and I'm delighted.

"Anything you want, gorgeous," I agree happily. "You up for something a little more intense but gentle?" A nibble at a sharp collarbone illustrates what I mean and she sighs happily, body already beginning to writhe.

"If you're offering what I think you're offering," she laughs breathlessly, "I may never let you leave this bed."

Chuckling, I carefully start to slither and kiss my way down her luscious body. "I can hardly think of a better fate," I encourage at her hissing at my jostling hand in her sex. "Than being your love slave."

Her breathy laughter goes reassuringly high-pitched and strangled when I dive in with no preamble. Past wet, wiry curls, I burrow a curious tongue past the thick labia, looking for the prize of her sharp, musky taste and the feel of her soft sex against my sensitive tongue. Wonder how long I can make her wait? Carefully judging her reactions, what makes her voice change, her inner muscles flutter, her body to writhe, I experiment. Rather than thrusting into her wet softness, I twist my hand and stroke where her g-spot should be close to with gentle fingertips.

Inexorably, she climbs that slippery slope again, tugging at my hair while I suckle at her clit, humming happily. She's a live wire, challenging me to stay with her, push her higher and higher until her back is arched off the bed and she's whining and crying out like a wounded animal, loosening my scalp.

The peak hits hard, rolling through her like an earthquake, making my own body twitch in sympathy to her ecstasy. Long moments pass as she rides it out and I bask in her release. How beautiful she is like this! Groaning heavily, Stella begins to settle, still twitching in the full-body experience and I slowly pull my fingers from the clutch of her body, relishing her low sound. Because I can't help myself, I slide home once more, just to watch her squirm, before leaving her be.

Enormously pleased with myself, I crawl back up and curl along her side, enjoying the heat and limpness of her satisfied body. Unable to resist all that soft skin, I lightly trail my wet fingers over her ribs and belly. The woman is a little angular, but certainly soft enough to cuddle with. Panting, Stella calms gradually, nosing at my thrashed hair. "You smell good," she giggles girlishly, still high on endorphins. "And like my shampoo. It's sexier on you though."

In a spectacular show of physicality, Stella wiggles away, roughly shoves me onto my back and pounces on me. The perilous edge of the bed amps my adrenaline up as much as the sneak attack, and her wild grin echoes my reaction.

"My turn," she growls aggressively and is kissing me like some sort of sensual goddess, my mind spinning, my whole body singing to her irresistible tune. Demandingly, her thighs tuck up under mine, tilting my pelvis up pressing heavily into my aching groin. I can only blink owlishly as she yanks he head back and glowers balefully. "Ruth, seriously, are you still wearing your pants? I think after that trip to the moon, I can handle you naked."

Her cheeky gall and the forest fire burn in my body has left me mute and staring, completely unable to process all of this. Taking my silence as compliance, Stella sits back on her heels and jerks open the buttons of my new jeans before curling those sensitive hands under my ass to peel off the whole mess of fabric, panties and all. Though the girlie femme side of me relishes the look in Stella's eye at my choice of lingerie.

Old doubts and self-consciousness swells up as my body is laid bare to this painfully attractive woman. The green eyes are curious and warm and strangely… empathetic. My nerves jump as she gently rests both hands on my belly, cupping around my belly button, letting my skin feel her heat. There is no escape from that piercing gaze, but there is no judgment either.

With a faintly hungry, feline smirk, Stella leans over, the brush of her lips mingling with the tickle of those curls. The heat of her belly against the wet need between my legs makes me dizzy. With all of the single-minded thoroughness of the investigator she is day to day, Stella sets about learning me.

The crazy, wild side I strive for control over rattles her bars, wanting out, to consume this woman, this experience, crunch the bones of this steady spiral of eroticism and suck the marrow. As though sensing that potentially dangerous energy, Stella is painstakingly gentle in her attentions, mouthing and licking at my skin, making me moan and fist up her comforter in my hands until it's a marvel I don't rip the fabric.

Implacable but so careful, Stella utterly seduces me, the press of her curls and mouth and heated breath and damp skin irresistible. Then fire boils up, actually scaring me, shifting the energy away from her fine seduction. I didn't even know that was a hot spot! That mouth veers away from chest and upper belly, dipping down to mouth the curve of muscle beneath my armpit, tensed with my grip and the sensation nearly makes my vision go white.

"Stel," I beg hoarsely, completely weirded out, frightened by the disjointed dizziness overpowering my senses.

"Hey," she whispers gently, shifting to face me, stroking my cheeks. "What's wrong, sweetie?"

It's so frustrating! I want her so bad, but here I am panicking like some sort of teenage virgin. "I," the sharp, adolescent-boy crack of my low voice actually hurts. "I think I'm just a little over stimulated."

"Okay," Stella capitulates to the change in plans with complete ease, shifting her weight to my side and curling up imperiously to my body. It's so not the response I was expecting, this lack of expectations and condemnation that I'm still reeling from the strange feelings that brought this on in the first place. Once again so sensitive to me, Stella props herself up on an elbow and looks at me sweetly. "I'll take the ego stroke that I reduced you to making me stop."

The choke of tears is offset by her sweet teasing. Smiling gently, she kisses me again, a sweet, loving gesture that calms and reassures me.

When she suddenly stiffens and makes a comically distressed sound, I almost laugh as she shoots out of the bed and races for the bathroom.

Still annoyed for my mini freak-out, I scrub my face harshly with my hands, cursing the weakness of the tears lingering at the corners of my eyes. "Physician, heal thyself," I growl meanly. Really, how silly is it to get so nervous over this sexy, capable woman? What am I, twelve?

Then Stella reappears, draping her lanky body in the doorway to grin sultry invitation at me. Again, my confused nerves mingle with the heat of that open invitation. "Scrub your back, hot stuff?" She invites with a smile. "Then we can get some sleep since it's…" the strangled sound of distress is funny, "nearly two in the morning. Thank all that's holy Mac gave me tomorrow off."

Yes, that will be for the best, something as down to earth as just getting clean. Lightheadedness makes me sway as I climb to my feet, after all my blood supply is torn between my brain and my crotch. Shaking it off, I follow her to the shower where she tends to my back and wrecked hair with a gentle, deft touch. I don't recall anyone ever washing my hair and take a simple joy in that. Stella chuckles throatily as I run the washcloth over her curves and eye her expansive, complicated mane. "Not tonight, sexy. My hair is a project beyond either of our reasoning skills right now. But I'm all yours tomorrow if you want a crack at it."

"I'd like that," I agree softly.

Toweling off my wet hair, I escape to the main room of her apartment to retrieve the toothbrush I bought earlier. Returning to the bathroom, I take care of that and stare at my reflection for a long moment. I hate the awkwardness and feel baffled at how to move beyond it.

When I turn towards the bed, I'm not surprised to find Stella watching me quietly, sprawled out on her blue sheets. "We okay?" she asks so softly with a note of entreaty that tugs at me. With a nod I flick off the light, once again plunging us into the near-dark of the city.

"Yeah, we're okay. I just feel a little… like I kept something from you," I confess as I stand there beside the bed. The gentle caress of her hand on my thigh is soothing.

"Hey, I have no actual assumptions, you know. Let's see what the morning brings, okay?"

That is reassurance enough for now. So I let go my own expectations, giving myself a break for once. Still feeling a little tentative, I scoot over and snuggle close to Stella's body, reassured when she hugs me back and blows out a heavy, hot breath against my scalp.

Neither of us will ever know who falls asleep first.

**Part 4**

Whatever reservations made me stop Stella's seduction that first night were smashed to teeny little pieces the next morning. The memories of waking to her kisses and caresses, swept away by her curiosity and my need can still make me fidgety months later. It was so impossibly good, leaving me shouting in ecstasy, yanking her hair, completely carried away by the raw physicality of release.

Then the evil wench bullied me into clothes and dragged me out for a breakfast that made me eat like a starving linebacker. Luckily I couldn't feel self-conscious about what must have been blatantly startled and delirious satisfaction all over my normally composed face. We wandered then, our bodies even more at ease than before we were lovers, and my passing comment about a small grocery shop luckily made Stella think to get a couple sacks of provisions.

We didn't leave her apartment again until I was forced to leave.

It always comes down to work for me. The drive that has kept me alive also drove me from my extraordinary lover; and has kept me from her since. Though that month in Saint Louis nearly had me running for her arms more than once. But the faint awkwardness that has plagued our once easygoing friendship has kept us both a little wary.

The bulk of the summer has been whiled away in Europe, working like a crazed animal on everything from industrial espionage to discreetly breaking up a kidnapping that the very rich family were reluctant to bring the authorities into. Exhausted and jittery with nerves, my team and I have retreated to one of our favorite safe houses just outside Edinburgh to wait for the heat to die down before we move on.

It's both sad and strangely reassuring that none of us have a home to return to. It's really a necessity for this sort of life. It makes for a deep loneliness, but nothing can change that. Over the last six months my entire small staff has fallen away, except for my core group of criminals. The irony that my hitter, hacker and thief have proven to be the most loyal and dedicated of anyone I've ever worked with has not escaped me.

Parker has wandered off to go solicit her special brand of entertainment, hitching a ride with Alec who is in the city sniffing around for new tech. Elliot has always been the most enigmatic of the three of them, surly and prickly sure, but completely loyal and always has my back. So, it's no surprise to me that I have no idea where he is or what he's doing.

We're as safe as possible here in Queensport. No one pays us any heed because we keep to ourselves and we're close enough to Edinburgh that no one is really fazed by our American accents. So, yeah, this is about as relaxed as I get, my vigilance a little fuzzy around the edges as I pound the crap out of the heavy bag Elliot and I set up.

Sure, and old milking barn might seem a strange place for a workout room, but I like it. The primitive setting is oddly soothing, the smells of hay and older scents of animals that once lived here, the dusty air and the sunshine that creeps though the chinks in the weathered wood.

Still, the flicker of movement triggers every self-defense mechanism, my body whirling and crouching with no conscious input from my brain. Then the signals go wonky, the evidence in complete contrast to my instincts and all I can do is stare at the apparition before me.

After a half step back, Stella, for it must be her, smiles slow and sexy. "Seems your staff was concerned about you," she muses conversationally, as though nothing at all strange is happening here. With calm, nonthreatening movements, she circles me, coming closer. "Care to take a mental health day with me?"

Control is my operating mode, it keeps me alive and successful and at the top of my game. Yet, in this completely unexpected moment of her impossible presence here in Scotland, I completely abandon my control. Whimpering faintly with the intensity of the moment, I grab Stella with rough, needy hands, crush her to me, kiss her bruisingly, pouring everything I am into the embrace. Growling, she gives as good as she gets, reassuring me with the very physicality of the embrace.

"What? How?" I mumble against her fine mouth and she chuckles evilly as she caresses me from ass to scalp.

"Alec hacked my work computer, the punk, and begged and pleaded for me to come give you some TLC. Elliot picked me up at the airport and practically tossed me out of the car with an embarrassed but heartfelt thank you."

It sounds just like the boys and that familiarity bleeds off some of the shock. Sitting abruptly on a bale of hay, Stella imperiously guides me to straddle her lap and I never dream of fighting her. Leaving off fondling her gorgeous hair, I cup her strong, beautiful face and caress her cheekbones and nose with my thumbs. I can't believe she's really here, warm and soft and solid against me. "You're really here," I marvel with wonder.

"I've missed you, Ruth. There was no way I was going to turn down such a lovely offer. Unless Mac had been a jerk and not scrounged up a whole ten days of leave time for me."

"Remind me to thank him," is all I can manage to whisper, my mind moving beyond words. Right now I can only be insanely grateful of this woman's presence, her kisses, her hands on my body. How I've missed her!

Rendered stupid by my roaring need for her, I willingly succumb to Stella's bossy demands on my body. She kisses me nearly to the point of pain, aggressive, nipping, almost snarling. Those sinewy hands digging into my ass make me growl in need, echoed in her smug chuckle.

The shove backwards almost unbalances my precarious position astride her thighs, but it's worth the shock for the shot of adrenaline and Stella imperiously peeling my torso naked. If at all possible, I'm further gone as she drives me more insane, my back arched as she roves that mouth over my chest. Not just the obvious mark of my nipples, either, but that spot she found last time that melts me and the tired and aching pectoral muscles from my interrupted workout.

The drawstring at my waist pulls tight and falls away, pants and underwear dislodged by an imperious hand, that touch coaxing me to my knees, balanced only by my grip in her curls and a hand on the bale beside us.

It's a rough, hard rush, like drawing breath after being underwater for too long, getting grazed by a bullet, nicked by a speeding car, preventing a massive devastating event from coming to pass. These are experiences I've had and the rush of adrenaline in my blood is similar, my entire body and mind focused on this amazing woman and what she is doing to me.

It's hits and renders me blind and helpless for those interminable moments in the grips of sensual overload.

Dizzy and gasping for air, I can only cling as my overworked muscles go limp. Too much hard work at the forgotten bag, too much quick, hard work at Stella's hands, too little sleep, too much stress. Shifting around, she gets in a comfortable position and cuddles me close to her. The sweet gesture is as welcome as the explosive sex, maybe moreso, even as it threatens my carefully built walls of self-isolation.

But, again Stella proves to be a match for those skills, murmuring against my ear, "welcome to Scotland."

My laughter is the perfect catharsis to add to this marvelous and unexpected interlude.

Many hours later the sun is setting over the spectacular scenery and glinting off the bay. I never grow tired of the view. It's another reason why I love this safe house over any others. We whiled away the entire day in bed, learning one another's bodies and minds again and again. Everything I really like about Stella hasn't changed, her intelligence and humor and the strange openness we share. Though, she is getting a little silly with exhaustion, what with the long flight and the time difference and the sexual calisthenics.

But before I get her sleep, she insists on being fed. Not that either of us could get any rest with that beast in her belly bitching away. At least I'd managed to wheedle wearing a tank top and some boxers past her sulking so that I don't flash any potential passersby. Besides, it let me tease her about it and make her pout so that I could kiss the expression away.

I'm barely half done when I glance over my shoulder at the quiet and grin that Stella has passed out finally, one arm dangling off the side of the bed. So I let her nap while I take the time to use an old skill by making my own pasta. I rarely allow myself to take the time to do this right. The primitive satisfaction of simple ingredients turned to pliant dough to beautiful strands of pasta soothes me. There's something sensual about the effort and my grin is decidedly naughty as I gently set the noodles to cook.

Clearly, Stella is turning me into a sex maniac.

There are even a couple chicken breasts Elliot left behind that will spoil if they don't get eaten, so I steal them with a mental note to replace them later. So I get a proper meal out of my team's odds and ends and approach Stella's somnolent body. She's so beautiful, her lanky, womanly body bronze and gold on the pale blue sheets.

"Hey baby," I speak gently to not startle her, after all she is a cop, and she jerks her head up, clearly disoriented. "You are really wiped out."

"Mmm hmm," she yawns expressively, to my amusement, and eye the bowls in my hand. "Now feed me before I drop dead."

It's almost embarrassing to listen to the entirely sensual noises as she eats with gusto. I can only remember our lovemaking and it makes me feel all weird and tingly and teenager-ish. God…

"Are these handmade?" The question is openly admiring and the praise embarrasses me, but I can't fight the shy grin as I nod. "God, this is delicious."

"You're just starving," I chuckle self-depreciatingly and delight in the sloppy wet kiss she smears over my chin.

"That too. But it's still damn yummy."

She works so well, here among my few things and this simple, elegant setting I've put together over the years. She has brought a warmth the space rarely has, and brought an ease to me that I will always associate with her. Ours is a friendship based on a mutual respect that still startles me so often. Stella has freely admitted her curiosity about what she doesn't know of me, but she has also freely admitted that she will not ask. That gesture of trust, her not invading the parts of my life she simply cannot be a part of, has won me over even more effectively than her skills in the sack. Unless she's really nosy, which I believe she won't be, there is nothing laying around up here that would compromise either of us.

We have this island of togetherness to visit and, after this trip, I will make damn sure to see her more often!

Stella clatters her bowl onto the bedstand and takes a swig of the fine French merlot we've been nursing all day before collapsing to the disheveled bed and indulging in a full-body that makes me drool and her to giggle lightheadedly. So I gather up our dishes but leave them in the sink for later, ignoring my aghast inner voice at the small mess. That part of me has no place here with my delightful lover who watches me with hooded eyes and a feline smile as I strip naked once again. Playfully kissing my way up her body makes Stella giggle girlishly before I plaster myself against her side, holding her close.

Neither of us has a clue exactly what this is. Perhaps someday, we'll have to start making definitions and promises. Clicking the light off, Stella picks up where my cuddle left off, pressing her nose into my shaggy hair and sighing heavily as her body passes limply into sleep.

Tonight, just being together is more than enough.


End file.
